


Midnight Chat

by dracoqueen22



Category: Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred is wise, Established Relationship, Fatherly Advice, M/M, May/December Relationship, Wally is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the night, Alfred hears a clatter and finds Wally in the kitchen. This doesn't come as a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Chat

The crash and clatter were what roused Alfred from his slumber and prompted him to investigate. It occurred to him to wake the actual vigilante members of the household, but he dismissed the thought just as quickly. He was old, not incapable.   
  
Besides, he had an emergency communicator tucked into the pocket of his robe.   
  
Cane in hand – more a weapon than something he needed, but it would fool any potential intruders – Alfred crept toward the source of the noise. It had come from the kitchen. An odd place for a burglar, but to each his own, Alfred supposed. Even criminals got hungry.   
  
Brazen criminals they were as well! They'd gone so far as to turn the light on. He could see it spilling through the gaps around the door. Alfred eased the swinging door open a crack and peered into the kitchen.   
  
He sighed and shook his head in amusement. He should have known.   
  
Alfred hooked his cane on the wall near the door and pushed his way fully inside. “Mr. West,” he said, with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “Is there something I can help you with?”  
  
A very guilty, barely-dressed redhead sat on the counter, a plate of food in his lap. There was no evidence of what had caused the earlier noise, but no doubt the famous Speedster had cleaned it up in a flash. Green eyes instantly flicked Alfred's direction. Cheeks stuffed with what looked to be the remains of Alfred's cheesecake bobbed up and down.   
  
“Um,” Wally said around a mouthful of cake. And then he mumbled something that sounded a bit like, 'No thanks, I helped myself.'   
  
“I can see that.” Alfred's lips twitched. “If I had known you were visiting, I would have prepared some snacks in advance for you.”   
  
Wally chewed aggressively and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “It was kind of a spur of the moment thing,” he said. Which probably explained his state of mostly undress.   
  
There was probably a trail of Flash uniform across the floor of Master Bruce's suite. Fortunately, Alfred was not responsible for dry cleaning these. He didn't precisely know how it worked, only that the Flash took care of his own laundry.   
  
“You do realize that it is three in the morning,” Alfred pointed out.   
  
“Yeah.” Wally ducked his head. “Sorry for the late visit.”   
  
Alfred took the empty dish from Wally and rinsed it off in the sink. “I am not opposed to your company, Mr. West. I only pointed out the time because Master Wayne usually does not return until sunrise.”   
  
Wally coughed into his hand, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “The key word, Alfred, is 'usually'. He's, um, he's here now.”   
  
“I am not sure I wish I know how you convinced him to do so.” Alfred chuckled and slid the dish into the washer. “However, thank you. Anything that gets him off the street and into bed sooner is something that I approve.”   
  
“You're welcome.” The tips of Wally's ears were red. “And yeah, you probably don't want to know.” He rubbed the back of his head just as his stomach made an audible grumble. “But if it's not too much to ask, do you have anything else in there that no one's laid claim to?”   
  
Alfred chuckled and opened the breadbox, pulling out a loaf of sourdough. “I will make you a sandwich, Mr. West.”   
  
“Oh, but you don’t have to do that. I mean, I can do it.”   
  
“It's my job.” Alfred tossed the young speedster a smile over his shoulder.   
  
Young would be accurate. Fifteen years younger than Master Bruce but also, one of the few capable of making Master Bruce smile. Alfred did not object to their relationship, to each his own as both were consenting adults. And goodness knows Master Bruce's genuine social circle was rather limited.   
  
“Besides,” Alfred continued as he opened the fridge and pulled out the necessary condiments, “I will be making one extra for you to take to Master Bruce and use whatever method you deem necessary to make him eat it.”   
  
There was a choked noise behind him.   
  
Alfred glanced over his shoulder. Wally's face was buried behind his palm, the tips of his ears a fierce red. The blush had spread down his neck even.   
  
“Is everything all right?”   
  
“Fine,” Wally said in a strained voice. “Just... fine. Alfred, you really have no shame, do you?”   
  
“I don't know what you're talking about.” He returned his attention to his sandwich making duties, that way the young speedster could not see his smile. “Now, I'm not as fast at this as you are but I should be done soon enough. Why don't you tell me what you want for breakfast so I can have it ready when you both wake.”   
  
Wally loosed a soft chuckle. “French toast?”   
  
“Ah. One of Master Bruce's favorites. Easy enough, Mr. West.” It was also one of Master Dick's favorites as well.   
  
It remained Alfred's hope that Master Dick would get over his anger with Master Bruce and return home. Of course, it had not helped that Mr. West and Master Bruce were now involved.   
  
“Thank you, Alfred.”   
  
“You are very welcome, young sir.” Three layers of roast beef and swiss cheese later and Alfred was done with the sandwiches, as in plural.   
  
Alfred carefully arranged them on a platter, added a bottle of water and a sports drink for Wally, and turned to hand said tray to Wally. “Now then, here you are. I'd offer to take it for you but I suspect I should not.”   
  
Wally hopped down off the counter, his bare feet smacking the tile. He accepted the tray, lighting up at the sight of a medium-rare roast beef sandwich.   
  
“No, probably not.” Wally laughed, some of the blush easing out of his complexion, though it made his freckles all the brighter.   
  
How this charming, bright young man had managed to both walk into their lives and remain, Alfred would never know. But he was grateful for the miracle.   
  
“I'll just take this up then. Thanks again, Alfred.”   
  
He smiled, patting the young man on the shoulder. “No, Mr. West. Thank you.”   
  
For far more than he knew.

****


End file.
